An Ever-Fixed Mark
by genetic.design
Summary: Dean often wonders if not having a soul mate mark is punishment for some fuck up he committed in a past life. — A story told in 100 word drabbles.
1. Man of Constant Sorrow

A 1000 word story, told in ten 100 word drabbles.

* * *

 _"Love is not love_  
 _Which alters when it alteration finds,_  
 _Or bends with the remover to remove._  
 _O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_  
 _That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_  
 _It is the star to every wand'ring bark,_  
 _Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken._  
 _Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_  
 _Within his bending sickle's compass come;_  
 _Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_  
 _But bears it out even to the edge of doom."_

* * *

Dean often wonders if not having a soul mate mark is punishment for some fuck up he committed in a past life. Maybe the idea of karmic retribution is a bit far fetched, but he's certain someone Up There has it out for him.

Before she died, his mother used to reassure him that having to wait for his soul mate's first words to appear meant he was special; that those who are born without marks are destined for a love greater than anyone could imagine.

More than two decades worth of waiting have only served to convince him otherwise.


	2. Fortunate Son

_"Having nothing, nothing can he lose."_

* * *

John once told him "you don't know how lucky you are, son, that you'll never have to experience losing them." Memories of his dad breaking after his mom's death are hazy at best, and he has never fully appreciated the truth of that statement until it happens to Sam.

It's like watching the stars burn out of the sky, seeing the way his brother curls in on himself, repeating "she's gone, I can't believe she's gone" in the most heartbreaking tone he has ever heard.

This, more than anything, solidifies his belief that not having a mark is a blessing.


	3. Simple Twist of Fate

_"It's got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what's written in the stars."_

* * *

Part of Dean wants the handprint to be nothing more than a scar. A freakish, physical manifestation of forty years in Hell. The second, much smaller part — full of fragile, tentative hope — is one he forces himself to bury until he knows for sure.

After months of dead ends, solid information turns up in the form of Sam, who coughs and mutters something about reliable sources before dropping the world's biggest bombshell of "Some soul mate marks can indicate non humans... like angels."

God must be screwing with him now.

Dean elects to handle the news by getting devastatingly drunk.


	4. Cool, Calm and Collected

_"Avoidance is a wonderful therapy."_

* * *

Given the circumstances, Dean thinks he's coping just fine, so Sam can stop giving him those squinty-eyed looks of concern any day now. Like he's some sort of ticking, emotional time bomb or whatever.

Yeah, okay, Cas knew. The bastard _knew_ , denied having any useful information, and hasn't made an appearance since That Night, but so what?

The avoidance is working out great, thank you very much.

That is, until Gabriel pops in late one evening and blows it all to hell with a well-placed, "Has the eye-fucking progressed to actual fucking yet?"

Sometimes, Dean kind of hates his life.


	5. What A Shame

_"Like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture."_

* * *

Maybe the whisky Dean spends the night slamming back holds the blame for his loss of control when Cas reappears.

Maybe the frustrations of the morning's failed hunt cause him to shove the angel against the wall, his hands fisted in that ridiculous, ever-eternal trenchcoat.

Maybe the mark burning on his shoulder, or the piercing blue gaze — or even the threat of the freaking apocalypse weighing down his mind — makes him lean in and kiss Cas like he needs this to _breathe_.

And maybe, when Dean abruptly finds himself holding nothing but air, the reasons don't really matter at all.


	6. Same Old Song and Dance

_"Present, n. That part of eternity dividing the domain of disappointment from the realm of hope."_

* * *

The kiss blows open some twisted version of Pandora's box; no matter how hard Dean tries, he can't shove the thoughts back inside.

Distracted and pissed off at the world in general, he goes into their next hunt hoping to vent his frustrations. Naturally, the situation devolves until he and Sam wind up surrounded and unarmed, bordering on totally fucked.

Between one breath and the next, they're back at the motel, Gabriel complaining, "I can't leave you two alone for five minutes, can I?"

Dean finds himself wondering why Gabriel saved their asses, instead of the angel he prayed to.


	7. Communication Breakdown

_"Just a part of the strange mechanism of the world, with its fits and coughs and starts and random collisions."_

* * *

The reasons behind Gabriel's constant presence become all too clear when Dean stumbles across said archangel and Sam, twisted up in some horrifying, compromising position.

With nauseating realisation slamming into existence, he scrambles for refuge at the local bar; drowning in alcohol sounds promising. Beer number three blurs into something closer to seven, until he stops caring how his brother is, apparently, _involved_ with a freaking angel of the Lord.

Dean can't even get a response to a single text.

Typical.

If he spends the rest of the night dwelling on eyes that spark like sapphires — it's a simple coincidence.


	8. Louder Than Words

_"I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight."_

* * *

Dean dreams of Hell tonight; screams devouring his shredded humanity; decades twisting horror into sick anticipation; gaping, oozing wounds carved by his own hands.

With a shuddering breath, he wakes, half-expecting to find vibrant blood coating the walls. Instead, his eyes meet a familiar face, and Cas opens his mouth — to apologise, maybe, or explain why the fuck he keeps disappearing — but Dean shakes his head.

"Stay," he says, the unspoken ' _please_ ' hanging in the air, and Cas slips into the bed and pulls the hunter to his chest.

This time, when Dean sleeps, he dreams of nothing at all.


	9. Come On, Come On

_"If you dare nothing,_

 _then when the day is over,_

 _nothing is all you will have gained."_

* * *

"I have a plan," Gabriel announces, and that right there makes Dean's entire body tense in wary anticipation, because c'mon. It's _Gabriel_.

And then he actually hears the plan. Reckless, dangerous, not to mention completely insane.

It's a goddamn shot in the dark, Dean knows this. He spends the next week obsessing over every little thing that might go wrong, until even Castiel can't take it anymore and asks, "What can I do to help you?"

Fuck it. Words are overrated.

Dean jerks Cas closer by his tie, drops to his knees in front of the angel, and shows him.


	10. Turn the Page

_"Fix these words in thine mind and heart; place them like a seal upon thine arm."_

* * *

Stretched out along the bed, Castiel's voice a warm rumble against his skin, Dean is ruminating over fate and decades-old promises; years spent burying bitter resentment, a childhood fear becoming a lingering, hollow ache.

A fingertip traces the handprint on his shoulder, pulls him back into the present. Glancing down at the head of dark, messy hair on his chest, at bare skin and entangled limbs, Dean suddenly thinks, ' _I guess Mom was right after all_.'

Castiel meets his eyes then, nods, a slight smile curving his mouth, and just this once, Dean finds that he doesn't mind being wrong.


End file.
